more adventures from first grade

''?Donde quieres ir?'' La maestra asks the first graders. ''You can go anywhere you want, and with anyone you want.''

''?Para yo? Yo quiero ir a Francia, con mi mamá.'' She draws a picture of the Eiffel Tower. Half the class copies her answer in the same prompt. José, however, follows his heart.

''Yo quiero ir a la Pulga.'' ''?A la Pulga?'' I ask la otra maestra, knowing the word means flea. ''Mercador de pulga,'' she clarifies. ''The Flea Market, in Pasco.''

There is the pre-schooler a co-worker told me about. My friend, a tall white 20-year-old, was asking this little boy what his name was. The boy was so shy he actually covered his face with his hand, then proceeded to remain that way throughout the entire snacktime, eating his Cheerios.

Or R, who always wants to partner with me in the ''Hola Amigo'' song in Spanish Social Studies every morning. ''How's it going, R?'' I asked. ''Not so good,'' he replied, hand on his lower back. ''Yesterday I fell off my bike and broke my back.''

There is G, who comes to school late every day with hair sticking up like he just woke up, wrapped in his mother's jacket. N, in foster care, who always talks about missing his mom, to whom I've learned to say I'm sorry, you can't hold my hand, because I know he won't let go.

Some names I have written down (from just one kindergarten class) include: August, Diamond, Unity, Kannin, Arasely, Chris C. (apparently there are two), and Tiyauna. Some spellings on third-grade posters in the hallway: ''She is dansen.'' ''The gurl is flexebo.'' ''Dicas da sun muds.'' (That's ''Because the sun moves.'') and elfelfat (for elephant).

And oh, I love these kids, but sometimes it is incredible to think how we ever learn so much.